Destiny High School
by igniteXtheXairwaves
Summary: Roxas's first month as a freshman at Destiny High was . . . ah . . . well, it sucked. But when he stumbles across a hidden and yet infamous club, will he finally find a place where he fits in? AU, in Roxas's POV. Rated T for swearing. AkuRoku, and more.
1. The Worst First Month Of School Ever

**Warning:** Swearing.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own KH, FF, or any characters having anything to do with them. As much as I wish it were true, it is not.

**Author's Note:** So, I was slightly inspired my Ouran High School Host Club XD. Meaning this will probably be a slightly-dramatic but mainly-humorous story.

* * *

Do you want to know what is typically the worst day of nearly _every_ person's high school career ?

Their first day as a freshman.

You want to know what's even _worse_ than that?

Your first day as a freshman in a new town.

You don't know _any_body. You don't have any other freshmen to clutch on to, hide behind, joke with. You don't know any upper-class-men who you can tag along with. All you can really do is sit there quietly, raise your hand when the teachers call on you, introduce yourself in such a way that you come across as confident and smart but aren't memorable. And then you just sit back and focus on your studying until someone chooses to approach you.

The previous paragraph, by the way, is a _flawless_ description of my first day at Destiny High School.

And my first week at Destiny High School.

And pretty much my first month at Destiny High School.

I know. It's rather depressing.

No one chose to approach me. I read and I studied and I achieved straight A's just like my parents would've wanted. And no one spoke to _me_ andIspoke to _no one._

After a day of studying my ass off at school, I would return home to my brother's house and proceed to study my ass off there.

And they were worried -- my older brother, Cloud, and my twin, Sora. I could tell, but I tried not to acknowledge it.

After all, I was_ fine_. Just fine.

I mean, sure, Sora was as popular as _ever,_ even in this new town. Sure, he had gotten over our parents' deaths a little _too_ quickly. No problem. As long as he was getting his B's and C's and I was receiving my flawless A's, it was all _great._

Really.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * ***

Okay. So we've already established the fact that I like to study.

Or, rather, that studying is _all I know._

However, I don't believe we've touched upon the_ technicalities_ of this obsession.

Like, for instance, the fact that it needed to be _absolutely silent_ for me to properly absorb information.

Usually, this wasn't a problem. It was always quiet during class, after all, and after school -- when Cloud was at work and Sora was hanging out with friends -- it was the same.

_Except_ on Tuesdays.

On Tuesdays, Sora always came home immediately after school ended, and never without a couple of friends tagging along for a supposed _Study Group. _

A _very freaking noisy _Study Group.

As a result, Tuesdays during that first month at Destiny High were my _absolute_ least favorite day of the week.

Luckily, I had a solution: stay at school. Go to the library. Enjoy quiet bliss.

And it worked out just great. Every Tuesday for about a month, I went to the library and it was _silent_ and _perfect_ and I studied my heart out and the next day I aced _all_ my tests.

Until October 15th.

That was the day the library was packed full, for God _knows_ what reason.

That day, I entered the large, cavernous room only to find all the tables filled to the brim with chatting, giggling students.

For a moment, all I could do was stare in dismay, my mouth slightly agape and my eyebrows knitting together.

Where were the _librarians_? Weren't they supposed to keep this place _quiet_?

I mean, _really_!

As I stared, a grinning blonde girl turned away from her red-headed friend, catching my eye. She was pretty and all, but as she smiled coyly at me, blinking her icy-blue eyes slowly, I found myself slightly revolted by her _way_-too-obvious behavior.

Finally coming to my senses, I turned on my heel and got the hell out of there.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * * **

I'm not of an athletic build. Not really.

But there's one thing I can say for _sure_ --

I can run like_ freaking hell._

Maybe I've just got a lot of stamina, but I can run my fastest for up to ten minutes.

Which is _exactly _what I did.

I bolted out of the library, down the hall, and out the school's back entrance like death itself was _right_ on my heels.

Or, you know, if death's a little too _over-the-top_ a metaphor for you, an overly flirtatious blonde girl. But, then again, let's not get into _specifics._

I ran out onto the grounds, towards the small workshops to the side of the school. There were three of them. And I was absolutely _certain _that the third was unused.

It was towards that building that I was headed.

I stopped right next to Workshop 3, my heart barely racing, still breathing rather normally, and dropped my backpack to the grass. The doors were locked, of course, so I couldn't get inside, but that didn't mean that the area _around_ the building wasn't eerily quiet.

_Blissfully_ quiet.

With a contented sigh, I plopped down beside my backpack, resting my back against the brick wall of the workshop.

It was only as I was removing my English book from the backpack that I heard something.

Speaking.

Coming from behind me.

From inside Workshop 3.

_Disrupting _my_ peace and quiet._

With a growl of frustration, I sprang to my feet, grabbing my bag as I did so, and approached the nearest window, peering into the darkness beyond it.

Lo and behold, inside lounged a group of students, who all appeared to be at _least _juniors. According to what I could see, most of them were boys, though one was _definitely _female and another had the possibility of being so. Through the dust coating the glass panes, it was hard to tell.

Outrageously annoyed, I was just about to step away from the window and search for another spot when the possibly-female one turned and looked _straight _at me. I could see the person more clearly now, and it was undeniably a guy, though the rose-tinted shag sitting atop his head would certainly suggest otherwise. He muttered something, his lips barely moving, and everyone else turned to look at me, also.

Suddenly, the speaking stopped.

I stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet and landing flat on my ass, understandably freaked out. What if they were -- I don't know -- some kind of _gang_? What if they thought I'd been eavesdropping, and overheard their awful plans to murder someone or steal something . . .? What if, now,_ I_ was a target?!

As I scrambled to my feet, the door to Workshop 3 banged open, and from the doorway emerged the girl, a blonde with cruel blue eyes. She approached me, and though she was female and not at all bigger than myself, I will _happily _admit that I was _scared witless._

"_Eavesdropping_, eh?" She hissed at me, and I shook my head numbly, but she just smirked as another figure exited the workhouse.

The boy was tall, extremely tall, and much too thin for it to be entirely natural; rising at least a foot and a half over my head, he certainly couldn't have been much bigger than me width-wise. As he stepped out of the doorway, the slight breeze stirred his bright-red hair, sending a ripple through the dangerous-looking spikes.

He began walking towards us, and even though he was still a ways away, I could clearly see his eyes: they were green in a captivating, toxic manner. Beneath each was a black diamond, though if they were actual tattoos or eyeliner, I couldn't tell.

Here's the weirdest part, though--

I wasn't _at all_ afraid. Not of _him_, at least. The girl standing beside me was still freaking me out, though.

When he stopped in front of me, I saw that he was smiling slightly, and he looked me right in the eye and said, "Trying to steal our secrets, are you?"

I shook my head again, struggling to force out a coherent verbal reply, but he simply rolled his eyes and offered me his hand.

"Axel," he introduced with a slightly arrogant raise of his eyebrows. "Axel Chakram."

I obligingly shook his hand, and with a wane and slightly frightened smile, replied, "Roxas Strife."

"Well met." He released my hand and motioned to the girl.

"This is Larxene. Pay her no heed, we all think she's a bitch."

Larxene's eyes flashed and narrowed to slits, and without a word she stalked back to Workshop 3.

After watching her go with a smile, Axel turned back to me and chuckled darkly, then took a hold of my shoulder and steered me after her.

"Wh-- where are you taking me?" I gasped in surprise, and his eyes flashed dangerously as he shoved me in a not-exactly-harsh-manner towards the door.

"To meet the rest of the Organization," he explained aloofly. "You've no _choice_ now that you overheard our _secrets_."

And with that, he pushed me through the doorway.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, there you have it-- chapter one! In which: we meet Roxas and Roxas meets Axel!

And about Axel's last name . . . . I had no idea what to call him. Like, what-so-ever.

Anyway! :D I like reviews! They're _almost_ as good as coffee

(but _only almost_ . . .)

so please review and tell me what you think! ^^


	2. The Super Dangerous Organization

**Warnings:** I actually don't think I put any swearing in this chapter. Huh. How odd. But I might've, so, yeah.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own KH or FF or the charries, etc.

**Author's Note:** Okay, I think this chapter might be a little short, but . . . oh well :D

* * *

The first thing I noticed about the room into which I was shoved was that it was surprisingly pleasant, albeit in an odd way.

The windows were coated in a transparent glaze, which from outside I had mistaken for dust, that allowed only a little light through. Draped from the walls were fabrics in every color and pattern; in the corner sat a little iron stove, and scattered throughout the room were chairs of every size, shape, and style; butterfly chairs, overstuffed armchairs, beanbags, footstools, wingbacks, chaises-- you name it.

And occupying many of these seats were the students I had been observing from outside.

As I looked around the room, Axel entered behind me, closing the door as he did so and blocking even more light.

"Well," he said quietly to me, "why don't you introduce yourself to everyone else?"

I glanced at him warily, then cleared my throat in a soft manner.

"Roxas. Roxas Strife."

Axel smirked slightly, for whatever reason, and plopped himself down in a violently purple wingback chair.

All eyes turned to a large armchair, from which rose another figure, shorter and broader than Axel, with tan skin and long hair dyed a curious shade of gray.

He approached me, and said, "I'm Xemnas, the President."

I looked up at him suspiciously, and asked, "The President of…?"

With a smile that might've been mocking, he gestured around him and replied, "Organization XII."

O_kay_ then.

That didn't really answer my question, but I supposed I wasn't about to stress the issue.

He returned to his seat, and everyone looked at another person, who stood. This guy scared me perhaps even more than Larxene. His black hair, streaked with white-ish-gray, was pulled back in a severe ponytail, and a harsh scar could be found along his jawbone. Over one eye, he bore a strange marking: a black circle, though if it was a tattoo or not, just like with Axel, I couldn't tell.

"Xigbar," he greeted , not even bothering to approach me.

The next guy didn't even stand up as all eyes turned to him. He just called from his beanbag, "Xaldin." He was a rather muscular guy, with a strong face and black sideburns.

From the other side of the room, a cool voice intoned, "I'm Vexen." His blonde hair looked as if it hadn't seen a pair of scissors in a couple of years, and he held in his hands a book, his thumb keeping his place as he introduced himself to me.

A hunkering, broad, muscular form, the only one standing, looked at me from the corner that he occupied and muttered, "Lexaeus."

In a striped armchair sat a boy with dyed-silver hair, bangs covering one eye, who introduced very quietly as all of the Organization turned to look at him expectantly, "Zexion."

A blue-haired boy with an odd, X-shaped scar plastered on his forehead told me, "I'm Saix."

Everyone then looked at Axel, who smiled crookedly and said, "And you already know me."

Next was a boy with a dirty-blonde, completely-out-of-date mullet. Seated on the arm of Zexion's chair, he quietly plucked at an acoustic guitar, but when everyone looked at him he grinned at me and said in a chipper voice, "I'm Demyx."

"Luxord." The man was blonde, with a bit of stubble scattering his jaw line. He was shuffling a deck of cards skillfully.

Next came the boy I'd at first mistaken for a girl, with the pink-ish shag, who was twirling a flower between his forefinger and thumb. "I'm Marluxia."

And lastly came Larxene, who looked at me coldly and said in a tense voice, "And I'm Larxene, but you already know that, now don't you?" She threw a dirty look at Axel, who simply grinned.

Xemnas then spoke up. "Again, we are Organization XII."

I heard a soft, slightly teasing mutter from Axel: "_Not anymore_…"

Xemnas smirked, and offered Axel a slight nod. "Exactly. Now we're Organization XIII."

Then, he looked right at me and everything suddenly crashed into perspective.

They wanted me to join this…

_This…_

What _was_ this?"

"No," I said immediately, shaking my head. "No way."

"Oh, come on, Roxas," Demyx whined with a pout. "You don't even know what we _are_ yet."

"_Oh, my_, could that be one of the reasons I'm saying_ no_?" I replied with a strong air of sarcasm, but when he looked slightly hurt I wished I'd been a bit more gentle.

However, Axel piped up, "He _does_ have a point." Turning to Xemnas, he asked, "Should I tell him, _O Superior One_?" He was grinning as he addressed the President as thus, and I saw Xemnas's eyes narrow just a fraction, but he nodded.

The red-head stood quite suddenly, and took on a dramatic persona, standing very straight and tall with his head held up in a confident, arrogant manner.

"_We_," he announced with a slight smirk on his lips, spreading his arms overdramatically and pacing strongly back and forth, "are a meer repertory of hambones and thespians, who choose reveal their true natures to the world and the school through the use of dramaturgy and histrionics."

He finished with a flourish and stood there, hunkered over in a slight bow, his head raised and his captivating green eyes staring at me expectantly.

I couldn't help it. I really couldn't. I gaped at him. A literal, no-joke _gape_, complete with a slacked jaw and wide eyes.

"Wh--" I began, and found I couldn't even form a coherent reply to this sudden change in character. Finally, though, I managed a "_Huh?", _upon which the rest of the Organization chuckled. Axel rolled his eyes in an exasperated fashion and returned to his normal posture, leaning slightly back, and placed his hands on his hips.

Still staring at the ceiling, disappointed that his performance hadn't left an impression, Axel sighed and explained boredly, "We're a theater group."

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Gasp_! :O The truth is revealed! They're a merry troupe of frolicking actors!

How absolutely_ horrifying_!

. . .

Please review and tell me what you think :)


	3. My Masochism Only Goes So Far

**Disclaimer:** I don't own KH or FF or the charries, etc.

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or follows this story! ^^ When I get an e-mail saying someone has just done one of these, I get so happy! Anyway, I'm really sorry I took forever to update. I've been suffering from some serious writer's block lately . Also, I wrote this really, really quickly, and didn't really proof read, so if there's a typo, free feel to tell me!

* * *

A theater group.

A freaking _theater group_.

Not a ruthless gang.

Not a group of super-skilled, super-secret assassins/weavers.

A frolicking troupe of freakin' _Shakespeare wanna-be's._

Perhaps still a bit pissed off that I hadn't been impressed by his mini-performance, Axel stared at me with one eyebrow raised impatiently, waiting for some kind of reaction.

Finally, fighting a snicker, I asked, "And you . . . want me to join?"

"Yes," the red-head sighed in a defeated manner, returning to his seat with a slight slump to his shoulders.

"Though you have no idea if I can act?"

"That doesn't matter," Demyx chirped, with a goofy grin. "We don't all act. Lexaeus refuses to speak on stage, he usually just plays a silent extra, though sometimes we do have him play a tree or something--" Upon seeing my horrified expression at this fact, the cheerful boy quickly amended, "But, I mean, you don't have to do that if you don't want to."

"No," I repeated, this time firmly, and I turned my back on them, grasped the doorknob, and wrenched the door open.

"Roxas!" Demyx whined behind me, and I heard someone stand. As I marched out the door, I moved to shut it behind me and found that, though I put as much force into it as possible, it simply wouldn't move.

I turned around angrily, ready to confront whoever was preventing me from completing my dramatic exit, and found myself looking into hazardous green eyes, which held a dangerous glint.

"Roxas," he said matter-of-factly, a very self-satisfied smirk threatening to break through. "You _have_ to join us."

I felt my jaw stiffen, my eyes narrow. I lifted my chin a bit, refusing to break eye contact, and asked, "Really, Axel? And why is that?"

The smirk finally revealed itself completely, in all its infuriating, lopsided glory, and he leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms lazily over his chest, and drawled, "Because you could've easily heard some of our secrets. You know, back when you were lurking outside of our building."

I rolled my eyes. "I didn't hear anything," I informed him, an ironic tone in my voice, turning my back on him and beginning to walk away.

He chuckled from behind me, and before I knew what had happened, he'd reached out, taken hold of my arm just below the elbow, and pulled me back. He leaned down towards me, our faces impossibly close to be considered, you know, socially acceptable, and said pointedly, "Maybe not. But look around you."

I did as I was told, and realized that a group of kids lounging about twenty yards away were watching us. Upon further observation, I discovered that many similar groups, scattered throughout the school grounds, were also staring.

"You see them?" Axel asked in a suspiciously victorious tone. "The students here are impatient. Most of them like their theatre. More importantly, most of them like popularity. Any one of these kids -- pick any of them, and I can almost assure you that whoever you pick would kill to know our secrets. If you're the only one who knows -- think about it this way. Everyone loves Organization XIII" -- I practically bristled at the fact that he included me in the name -- "but we're secretive. If you know something no one else knows, and everyone wants to know it, how many girls do you think will approach you now? Talk to you, flirt with you? How many more friends will you have? High school's just a popularity contest, Roxy. We all know it. Maybe we don't say it aloud, but no one tries to deny it. They just keep on tryin' to reach that top rung. And Organization XIII's secrets? They're the _key _to the top rung."

He let go of me then, leaned back once more, and smiled. Just slightly, but a smile, a knowing little smirk. "And you seem like a loner, Roxy. Are you a loner?"

I promptly didn't answer, deducing that he already knew the answer. From the chuckle that escaped his lips, I guessed I was right.

"All right, then. Play the silent treatment. Doesn't matter. I'm not so good a listener anyway." With a small sigh, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, extracting one and placing it gracefully between his lips. He then continued speaking around the cigarette, as he fished a lighter from his other pocket, "So, you're a loner. Well, now that people have seen you with us, they're gonna approach you. Wanting to know the secrets, you know."

Having found the lighter -- which, I swear, was the exact same shade of green as his eyes -- he lit it, and brought it up to the very tip of the cigarette. I noticed the way he watched the flames, leaving them dancing a bit longer than necessary, enthralled by them, their glow reflecting in his toxic eyes, before he switched the lighter off and returned it to his pocket. He then took a long drag, before proceeding, a cloud of smoke erupting from his lips, "And that's because you're an outsider. Of the club, I mean. You're not a member, so they can approach you. Because we've got a rule: you try to approach us, ask us about our latest project, and we rip your vocal cords out." He grinned then at my rather disturbed expression. "They don't take it literally, of course, but they get it. They get not to bother us."

The glow of his cigarette flickered wickedly in the reflection of his eyes as he finished, "But I can assure you-- they will not cease to bother anyone who is not a member of this club and who knows something. Such as you, Mr. Loner."

I _had_ to be a masochist. I mean it. If I wasn't, I wouldn't have looked him straight in the eye and said in a strong voice, "I don't care."

But I did.

Not that it mattered much. But if he'd taken what I said to heart -- if he'd thought I really didn't care -- then I would've died. If people started coming up to me like that, just randomly, chatting and flirting, I would've died.

But he seemed to see right through me. He rolled his eyes, a bit exasperated by the fact that I was so obstinate, perhaps, and then looked at me in frustration, his head tilted a little to one side.

"Roxas," he sighed, stepping away from the door to permit me entrance. His green eyes strangely innocent, yet no less hypnotic, he asked, "Please?"

I could've said no. I could've snorted and walked away, and if he grabbed me again I could've shaken him off. I could've easily done all this, without a second thought, pretending not to care how many people would now approach me.

But I didn't.

I gave him one last irritated glance before stalking back into Workshop 3.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Roxy finally consents! But _what_ made him do it? Was it the threat of being -- god forbid! -- _talked to_? Or maybe the promise of new friends?

Or -- was it, perhaps, a certain tantalizing red-head's hypnotic gaze?

...well, I think we all know what it was. :)

Anywho, please review! I love to hear how people reacted, what they think, etc. It makes writing so much more fun, somehow. ^^


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